


The Emperor's New Clothes

by SeaweedWrites



Series: Nonsexual Acts of Intimacy [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: But Nothing is Seen, Does this count as crossdressing?, Embarssing, Forgetful John, Friendship, Funny, Gen, Showering John, Silly, Techincally Naked John, Wet John, Wet Sherlock, no, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 02:16:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11117790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaweedWrites/pseuds/SeaweedWrites
Summary: I found a prompt listing of 20 nonsexual acts of intimacy. I thought it would be fun and a bit challenging to do this with Sherlock and John.This means that it is -NOT- Johnlock, this is just two best friends and roommates who have found themselves in interesting, odd, or perhaps slightly awkward situations.Prompt 1: Finding the other wearing their clothesSet: Somewhere in Season 1Sherlock and John get caught out in a rainstorm during a case. John needs a shower when he gets home. But he forgets one crucial thing... Well, maybe more than one.





	The Emperor's New Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> found a prompt listing of 20 nonsexual acts of intimacy. I thought it would be fun and a bit challenging to do this with Sherlock and John. 
> 
> This means that it is -NOT- Johnlock, this is just two best friends and roommates who have found themselves in interesting, odd, or perhaps slightly awkward situations.
> 
> As much as I can, I will try to stick with canon, if I have to do AU will mark it as such. 
> 
> I am intending them to be little drabbles, but if the mood and prompt strikes, they may be longer, so expect varying lengths, though I forsee them all being general audiences, if they are more they will be marked as such as well. 
> 
> They will not necessarily be done in order, it will be in how the ideas come to me. 
> 
> These stories are not beta-ed or Brit-picked, so all mistakes are my own. 
> 
>  
> 
> XXXXXXXXX

**Prompt 1: Finding the other wearing their clothes**

**Set: Somewhere in Season 1**

**Word count: 787**

 

 

Looking back on it, John was sure this was a day neither he nor Sherlock would forget.

 

They had been called out to a case that Detective Inspector Lestrade insisted was a high 7, perhaps even an 8. Unfortunately, it had ended up being a 4 at best.

 

As they arrived at the crime scene, the clouds were already gathering and darkening in the warm London sky. Soft sprinkles of rain danced on their coats while Lestrade gave them the rundown of the crime scene. It had only taken Sherlock fifteen minutes to determine it was the estranged boyfriend who had strangled the young female victim.

 

By the time John and Sherlock were ready to leave, the sprinkle had turned into a deluge. Even through their coats, the wetness seeped into their bones, soaking them to the core. They were both more than anxious to leave when Lestrade finally excused them. They ran for the main road and hopped in the first taxi, avoiding the glaring look the driver gave them for soaking his back seat.

 

As usual, John ended up paying the man while Sherlock quickly ducked inside the flat. John was only a moment behind, shedding layers of coat and jumper as he went up the stairs. He was shivering by the time he stepped into the living room, where Sherlock was attempting to light the fireplace. When he heard John come in, Sherlock turned to his roommate.

 

“I had a heavier coat. I'm not as cold. You take a shower first.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“I'm fine. Go.”

 

John wasn't going to argue any further. He was tired and chilled and just wanted a shower and his nice, warm bed. He wasn't even thinking when he went directly into the bathroom and started to strip the rest of his wet clothes off. He'd already stepped into the scalding hot shower when he realized that he had no towel and no change of clothes.

 

“Shit.” Putting on his wet clothes back on was not an option, and there were no towels large enough- clean or dirty- to cover himself modestly.

 

That only left one option. Sherlock's dirty laundry hamper was in the bathroom. He tended to be meticulous with what he wore and changed rather often, so even his “dirty” clothes were often barely that. If John was lucky, he could find a large shirt or perhaps a robe, just something so he could make it up to his room.

 

He sighed and went through the motions of a shower, anxiousness eating a pit in his stomach. There was always the chance there was nothing in the hamper he could use, and then he'd be up the creek without a paddle.

 

John lingered in the shower as long as he could, but he knew it'd be unfair to use all the hot water before Sherlock had a chance to use it. Reluctantly, he turned the water off and dried off as best he could with the couple of small clean towels that were left.

 

He sighed and opened up the laundry hamper, trying to root around in it as little as he could. It was a bit awkward and intrusive to have to do this, but he didn't have any other option. He found an old t-shirt Sherlock often wore around the house and a pair of pajama bottoms that were long enough to cover his feet. With a sigh and a shrug, he slipped them on.

 

John opened the door a crack, hoping against hope that maybe Sherlock had stepped out to talk to Mrs. Hudson or by some miracle decided to go to bed early with no shower. He walked as quickly down the hallway towards the main room and his stairwell as he could. He was putting his left foot on the bottom step when he heard Sherlock.

 

“Oh, are you finally done? I hope you left me some....” Sherlock voice trailed off. John closed his eyes tight, his body rigid as stone.

 

“Are you... wearing my clothes?”

 

John's cheeks burned a bright red. He was glad he was facing the stairs so the detective couldn't see. “I... forgot to take any clothes in. I'll wash them and give them back tomorrow.”

 

“Alright.” The awkwardness hung heavy between them. “Good night, John.”

 

“Good night, Sherlock.” John took the steps 2 at a time and slammed the door behind him. He ripped the clothes off, got dressed in his own pajamas, and shimmied under the covers, willing the hot blush to fade.

 

All he could as he attempted to fall asleep was thank his lucky stars that he could finally put this nightmarish day behind him.

 


End file.
